Darkness Within the Light
by galaxies in her eyes
Summary: *UP FOR ADOPTION* Voldemort has a daughter, who he sends to Hogwarts to spy for him. She is supposed to gain everyone's trust, but what happens when she befriends one of her father's worst enemies? Is she truly Dark or just pretending to be? Will she ever find her long-lost brother? Will he remember her? Years 1-3.
1. Prologue

"Father?" 18-year-old Severus asked. "How did you and Mother meet? And what happened to... _them?_ "

The Dark Lord looked up at his son from the desk where he worked, his eyelids closing slightly, narrowing the eyes to slits. "Why do you ask, Severus? After all this time?"

Severus shrugged. "You have never explained anything to me in full. Haven't I a right to know, Father?"

Voldemort sighed, and began his story.

* * *

Tom Riddle had been fairly young when his parents died, leaving him the pureblooded heir to the vast family fortune, the very last of the Riddles. He fell in love with a feisty witch he remembered from school named Eileen Prince, who did not return his amour, and instead wedded a Muggle named Tobias Snape.

A few months into the marriage, Eileen realized her mistake, all too late: Tobias was an alchoholic and abusive. She fled to Tom after a particularly difficult night, begging forgiveness, which he readily granted, as he had never stopped loving her and never lost hope.

She became Tom's mistress, which pleased everyone for a couple weeks, until she fell pregnant. When Tobias found out, he ate,pted to murder the unborn fetus, whom he called a "love-child", but Tom killed him first.

Eileen didn't even mourn her husband, instead settling into a new life as Eileen Riddle. Severus was born, and he was spoiled rotten right from the beginning. He had everything he needed: toys, clothes, books, friends.

He attended Hogwarts as Severus Snape; going as Severus Riddle was too obvious; only the teachers knew who he really was. He was an introvert, but he did make a few friends, mostly Slytherins, but he befriended, and crushed on, a crimson-haired Gryffindor girl named Lily Evans.

He did well in most of his classes, excelling in Potions, along with Lily, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Around the middle of his years of school, Tom and Eileen started fighting. Severus was sorely neglected, quite horribly so compared to his younger years. He was bullied by a gang of four boys who called themselves the "Marauders", and when he was hung upside down with his own spell, he snapped and called Lily a Mudblood. Unsurprisingly, she turned against him and started taunting him too, although she never used physical torment.

Sometime around the beginning of his last year, the bullying grew to be so bad Severus started self-harm. He slit the insides of his elbows, using his own spell, Sectumsempra, which stung a lot more than the Muggle razor blades, and cut a lot deeper.

He came close to committing suicide, but decided against it when his parents chose to have another child in an attempt to make peace. Nearly a year later, after Severus was out of school, a baby girl was born on September 19th, 1979, on the precise stroke of midnight. She was christened Vivienna Celestine Riddle.

Unfortunately, the baby did not help family issues, and when Vivienna was only a few months old, Eileen fled with her in the middle of the night. They left nearly everything, except for a few pieces of jewelry that were worth a lot of Muggle money.

They were never found again, at least, not in person.

What Eileen did not know was that Tom had placed a piece of his soul within the baby girl's mind, making her a Horcrux, and forever connecting the two.


	2. Chapter One—Year One

**A/N:** **This fan fiction is written for the author's amusement. I happen to enjoy it, so I don't care if you hate it.**

 **Anything in italics is telepathy/MindSpeak.**

 **I think that's all. Enjoy, review, favorite, and follow!** **Thank you everyone!**

 **Love, 4ever**

* * *

It was at Hermione Granger's 8th birthday party that she first heard him. A voice, deep and rough. It was a voice that could sound menacing or caressing.

And it was inside her head.

She looked around frantically; no one was anywhere near her. The kids were all playing with one another...without her. She sighed. Everyone her age shunned her because she was too mature and not childish enough for their standards. She preferred reading large books at recess rather than stomping in mud and playing hopscotch (badly).

The voice spoke again, and this time Hermione listened.

 _How are you faring, young one?_

Hermione shivered and cast a glance at everyone else. They were still busy talking to each other, and no one remembered the Birthday Girl. As usual.

She scurried off to her hiding place: a large, squat tree with a small space between the roots.

"Who are you?"

 _Oh, don't tell me Eileen didn't tell you about me!_ The voice sounded annoyed, Hermione thought, but slightly fond and wistful.

"Who's Eileen?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Somehow, she got a mental image of an eyeroll. _What is your mother's name?_

"Mum said not to talk to strangers," Hermione said in a small voice. She peeked around the tree trunk. Good, no one had noticed that she was missing. Not that that was uncommon; it would usually sting, but today she was glad.

 _Oh, but I am not a stranger, Vivienna._

"Who's Vivienna?" Hermione was getting annoyed now. Maybe she should go tell her mum.

 _You are, dear. And you don't have to speak out loud. In fact, please don't. It hurts my head._

Surprised, Hermione tried thinking the words. _Is this working...? Whoa!_

The voice sounded amused. _There you go, dear. Now what is your current name?_

 _Current name?_ Hermione was not as amused, and she didn't hide the fact. _My name is Hermione Granger._

 _Eileen always did like the name Hermione,_ the voice mused thoughtfully. _But you were not born Hermione Granger. You were born_ _Vivienna Celestine Riddle._ The voice broke slightly, although Hermione didn't understand how a mental voice could break. _My daughter._

Hermione gaped, both mentally and physically. _I'm..._ your _daughter?_ She didn't try to conceal her amazement. _But you...you're a voice in my head!_

She could have sworn that she saw a mental picture of a sarcastic grin _. Very good, Vivienna. I am a voice inside your head._ The tone was wry and sarcastically amused.

 _Stop calling me Vivienna!_ She demanded. _My name is Hermione Granger._

 _May I call you Enna?_

She mentally nodded.

The voice continued softly. _My name is Tom Riddle. I am your father. I am a wizard. You have an older brother named Severus, and he teaches at the school I wish for you to attend when you turn eleven._

Hermione's expression turned incredulous. She wasn't dumb, by any stretch of the imagination, yet here she was, with a voice claiming to be her father telling her— _mentally—_ that magic was real. And that she had a brother.

The voice—Tom Riddle, her...father—was telling her about his relationship with Eileen Someone-or-Other, who was apparently her mother.

 _My mother's name is Emma Granger,_ Hermione said, not just a little confused.

Tom spoke again: _Just as your name is Hermione, eh? She changed both of your names...to hide...from me._ The raw pain and anguish showed in his voice. _Please, Enna, just hear me out._

Hermione agreed.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has viewed this story. It always makes me smile to see the numbers increase. Please continue to make me happy *puppy eyes***

 **~ 4ever**

* * *

The voice proceeded to tell Hermione everything about his and Eileen's relationship, and how she'd left in the middle of the night with baby Vivienna.

 _It devastated us. Severus had gotten so attached to you that he_ cried _when he found you and Eileen were gone. And Severus does not easily show emotions._

 _Your birth really helped him. I think he was nearing the brink of suicide. Then you were born and he was like a different man. He truly bonded with you...and then you were taken._

 _You were taken, with no clues as to your location. Severus was so unhappy he began drinking and smoking. Eventually, I had to erase his memory. He would have attempted again—and mostly likely succeeded—if I had not._

Hermione could feel her anger seeping into her thoughts. _How could you erase all his memories of me?_ She asked furiously. _You had no right!_

Tom flushed, ashamed suddenly of his actions. _Do not fear, Enna, I set a trigger. He will remember you again if you say his first name. Severus._

Hermione let her anger dissipate. There was no use holding a grudge if her brother would remember her...eventually.

 _I regret everything that I ever said to your mother when I was in a rage,_ Tom continued. Things _were...not going well then. There was a great Wizarding War, and Eileen and I were on opposite sides of it._

 _Then I attempted to kill some of my enemies, which Severus tipped me off about, and nearly succeeded, if not for that little brat._ Tom took a calming breath.

 _I cast the spell and it...bounced off. It came back at me and I was banished for several years by the sheer power of it._

 _Merlin, but I want him dead._

Another deep breath.

 _That is why I would like for you to attend Hogwarts. The wizarding school,_ he clarified, seeing her confused mental face. _He is the son of two powerful magicians. There is no doubt he will be admitted._

 _Please, Enna. Give me a chance. I want to help you learn magic. Think of all the fun it will be. I will teach you all sorts of interesting tricks. You can learn to fly, turn invisible, which is called Illusioning, or Masking, and how to turn into an Animagus, which is—_

 _An animal form!_ Hermione exclaimed excitedly, clapping mental hands. She subsided, feeling embarrassed, Tom smiled at her.

 _Indeed, Enna. An Animagus is your animal form, much like an alter-ego. Your shape will be based off of your magical power and your qualities, both good and bad._

 _Wizards and witches start Hogwarts when they are eleven, so we still have a couple years to work on these powers._ Tom grinned.

"Hermione!" A female voice called. She sounded thoroughly frazzled. "Everyone went home already. They left presents!"

 _It would seem that I have gifts to open,_ Hermione commented dryly.

 _I will speak to you later, Enna. Remember, I am always available for you to come to, no matter what the situation. You will always have a—mental—shoulder to cry upon._

Hermione smiled. _Goodbye...Father,_ she whispered mentally.

"Coming, Mum!" Is what she uttered aloud.

* * *

Two years later, Hermione was a powerful, brilliant young witch and quite the formidable opponent.

She had the ability to Mask herself, thus rendering herself invisible to all but the most highly-trained witches and wizards; she could fly, both with and without a broomstick, a power that her father had told her was quite rare and special; and she could transform into her Animagus forms at any time, running or otherwise.

Yes, _forms._ She had three; also rare.

Tom commented that her forms all had different levels of power and could all be useful.

Her first was a sprightly, red fox. Though not exactly pleased with the form, she admitted that could be very helpful: it was fast and cunning, although not particularly inconspicuous.

Her second was a beautiful golden lioness. Tom, although disgruntled, agreed that this likely meant she was going to be sorted into Gryffindor, despite her Slytherin blood.

Her third was the most powerful and very rare; Tom admitted that practically no one had a magical animal Animagus. She had the top of a black-haired girl with pale skin and such blue eyes they were almost violet, while the bottom half was a tawny lion (again, Gryffindor). As if that wasn't magical enough, she had silvery wings that looked like those of an angel that she could glamour or use: they weren't just decoration; they truly worked.

An awed Tom told her that the human top was what she would look like without the glamour spell Eileen had cast on them both. She had taken flight a few times to test out her wings, and she'd shared her vision so he became her, saw the view from her eyes.

A few months after Hermione found out her Animagus forms, she finally managed to keep her shirt on when she transformed back and forth from her Sphynx form. Thankfully; she didn't need perverted guys looking at her boobs if she shape-shifted.

She had been studying magic for a little over two years, and she knew a lot of it. Spells, hexes, curses...the lot.

She knew quite a few Dark spells and even more Light spells, she could brew Felix Felicis in her sleep, which she knew from attempting once. It was dangerous, yes, but she had managed. It was probably the hardest potion she knew, although Veritaserum was a close second, as it took a month to brew.

She could transfigure practically anything into anything else, and herself into several inanimate objects.

And she was nervous as hell.

Today was the day that she would either be asked to attend Hogwarts, or...not. She truly hoped it was the former. She'd been reading a lot about magic and the castle itself.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her jumper, nearly subconsciously.

 _You'll be fine!_ Tom reassured her. _Just be the charming, intelligent, mature young lady we both know you are._

She was slightly comforted, but kept quiet and pretended to read so her mother wouldn't ask if she was sick.

The doorbell rang.

* * *

 **A/N: Ok, how is it? Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Average, Poor, Troll? Please let me know in a review!**

 **~ 4ever**


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: How are you liking the story so far? Is my writing any good? Please let me know in a review!**

 **Please help me reach my goal of 3 favorites and followers.** **I promise I won't be one of those authors who demands reviews and won't post until they get the required amount. I merely would like to be shown that people appreciate my work.**

 **Shoutout to: mjeffrey416. Thank you for being the first to follow this fanfiction!**

 **Shoutout to: Guest, for being the first to review. I'm glad you enjoy my stories, most of which came in the middle of the night. Very annoying.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has ever read, reviewed, followed, and favorited any of my stories. You guys encourage me and give me hope.**

 **~ 4ever**

* * *

 _The door bell rang..._

Bloody hell. Hermione wiped her hands on her jumper once more and answered the door. An elderly woman, probably mid-sixties stood there, dressed in black robes, with a badge on her chest of what Hermione recognized as the Hogwarts crest.

Hermione stood there dumb for a second before her polite instincts kicked in and she opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing the woman to enter.

Emma (or Eileen, as Hermione always thought of her privately) walked into the room. She was immediately glad she had glamored both herself and Vivienna, as the woman would certainly have recognized them, even after all these years.

"Hello," Emma greeted Minerva McGonagall courteously. "Please, make yourself at home." Minerva sat down on the couch, almost warily, as if the shabby thing might bite her. "Would you like some tea, ma'am?"

"Yes, please, Mrs—?" Minerva said, leaving the unspoken question in the air.

"Granger, ma'am." Emma didn't bother correcting Minerva. She glanced back at Vivienna—no, _Hermione—_ as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. After all these perfect Muggle years, Emma's worst nightmare come true.

Hermione sat down cautiously. "May I inquire your business here, madam?" She asked politely.

Minerva was astonished. When she had been admitted into the house, she had been struck by the drab appearance. The girl who had answered the door was wearing a denim jumper that had what looked like _paint_ splotches all over it. Her wildly curly hair was held back in a bushy ponytail, although quite a few tendrils had sprung loose like corkscrews around her temples.

She had expected the inhabitants to be rude and boring, like all the other Muggles she had ever met, but this was not the case. Here was this little girl, who was quite tiny for her age, especially behind all that hair, being quite courteous; in fact, she seemed to have more manners than any other child her age Minerva had met before.

"I come from a school that wishes to offer you a place as a student," she said primly. She still didn't understand why Albus wanted this Muggle-born as a student at the most prestigious magic school in Europe.

Emma arrived with the tea on a tray, along with lemon slices and honey. She set the tray down on the coffee table. "Shall I stay or go?" She asked.

"Stay please, Mrs. Granger." Minerva said. "This concerns your daughter's education."

She introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall, and continued to explain Hogwarts, but Hermione tuned her out, as she'd heard all of it before. Instead, she turned her attention to Tom.

 _She's here, Father!_ Hermione rejoiced.

Faint laughter. _So I see, Enna. Good job. Now, be on your best behavior and see if Eileen will let you go._

Hermione nodded and severed the link. She turned back to the real world, and the conversation occurring.

"She's not a...a witch!" Emma cried, playing the Muggle mother part quite well.

"Not yet she isn't," Minerva said, "But with the correct training, she could be a spectacular one."

Emma sighed and said to Hermione. "Sweetheart, this is your decision. It's _your_ life. I leave it up to you, and I will honor whichever choice you make."

Minerva marveled over the speed at which the woman had accepted the fact that there was real magic in the world. She turned to the young girl, who still looked shell-shocked and undecided.

"It's quite all right, Ms. Granger," she said softly. "I know this is a lot to take in. Perhaps I should come back tomorrow?"

"No!" Hermione blurted. Her cheeks turned light pink from her outburst; she schooled her features and said, more calmly, "No, thank you. I-I've made up my mind already."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm really enjoying writing this story so far. Please let me know if you're enjoying reading it.**

 **Reviews make me smile! (So does being followed and favorited.) Please recommend my stories to other people. I would appreciate it so much! *puppy dog eyes***

 ** _Ciao_ , ta-ta, and _adieu_! (Anyone get that book reference? No? *sighs* I read too much.***

 **~ 4ever**


	5. Chapter Four

_"No, thank you. I-I've made up my mind already."_

Minerva leaned forward eagerly. She knew that Ms. Granger would most likely accept, but she couldn't help the nerves that fluttered within her stomach, something that she had not felt for a very long time.

"I would like to go, madam," Hermione said softly. "I think this is a wonderful opportunity."

Minerva gave a small smile. She realized that she didn't even know the girl's name. "Here is the list of what you need, Ms. Granger," she said, making the said list appear and hover in front of her. She plucked it out of the air and handed it to Hermione, who didn't seem as astonished as Minerva had expected.

"These are the basics. I will take you shopping for everything personally."

Hermione beamed. "When, madam?"

Minerva thought this over. "I believe I can accommodate you right now, Ms. Granger," she said. "Now, we will be going to a place called Diagon Alley, where we will find shops that sell everything on the list.

* * *

First-year students will require:

Uniform Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.

Books 

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

* * *

Hermione mock-gaped at the list. She'd read all of the magic books already–through Tom's eyes. She almost laughed aloud as the thought occurred to her: she didn't even need the broomstick.

She found her voice. "We will find _everything_ on this list?"

Minerva nodded.

Hermione grinned suddenly. "Well, what are we waiting for?" She bounced up. "Should I change my clothes?"

Minerva eyed her. "I would suggest it. I believe jeans will work. Perhaps you could also find a way of, ah, taming your hair?"

Hermione was slightly annoyed, but she hid it well as she inclined her head and rushed up the steps. She quickly changed out of the paint-splotched jumper and reached out to Tom. _Father, I'm in!_ She cried exuberantly.

Tom's voice caressed her mind. _Very good, daughter. Now, put on that pretty top I gave you for your birthday._

Hermione did so, and stood in front of her mirror as she smoothed her hair with some Frizz-Free potion she'd made over the summer. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with bell-sleeves. Interestingly, the shirt was red with gold trim. She wound a green and silver scarf around her neck and smirked. She was wearing her colors.

She wondered briefly what the Sorting Hat would do about her Slytherin blood and Gryffindor nature.

She walked back down the stairs.

As Minerva stood waiting for Hermione, Emma came back in. "Professor, may I speak with you in private please?" Minerva nodded and followed Emma into a small library. "Um, will Hermione be referred to as a Mudblood?"

Minerva was taken aback for a minute. "How...How do you know that word?" She asked suspiciously.

Emma sighed. "Please don't freak out," she said softly. She lowered the glamour that had protected her for many years, showing a slender young woman with long, tousled black hair, pale skin, and the bluest eyes Minerva had ever seen.

And she _had_ seen them. Once.

"Dear Merlin!" She exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Eileen...Riddle?"

Emma brought the glamour back up, once more seeming like a bosomy middle-aged woman with the same curly brown hair as her daughter. "Please, Minerva," she begged, "Don't tell anyone except the Headmaster."

Minerva nodded, still in shock. "How are you alive?" She asked softly.

Emma sighed, running her hand through her tangled, bushy hair. "I took Hermione and ran. If Tom was going to start a war, I wanted neither Hermione nor myself having anything to do with him."

So the girl's name was Hermione. A fine name meaning well-born, and indeed she had been. Daughter of the Dark Lord!

Minerva stepped forward and hugged Emma. "I'm glad you're alive, Leenie."

Hermione skipped in then, her eyes taking in the sight of the elderly professor embracing her mother. "Uh, I can come back?" She offered. Minerva untangled herself from Emma's arms and shook her head.

"No, Ms. Granger, I am ready."

"What were you talking about?" Hermione asked, although she already knew the answer.

"Nothing that concerns you, dear," Emma said soothingly.

 _If it's about me, doesn't that concern me?_ She asked Tom, disgruntled.

His answering laughter was comforting; a sound she knew well. _I would say so, yes, Enna, but your mother does not always see it as such._

Hermione pulled away from her father's mind and returned to the real world. "Shall we, Professor?" She asked. Minerva nodded and motioned Hermione go first.

As Hermione walked out the door, Minerva took the time to examine her. She was wearing Gryffindor colors, yes, but also Slytherin's. She eyed the scarf in trepidation. She had never known anything good to happen around green and silver.

They arrived at Diagon Alley; Hermione pretended to be amazed when the wall fell away when tapped by Minerva's wand in a certain pattern. She made a mental note of the order.

They quickly bought the required books and most of the equipment, saving the robes and wand for last. They walked to Ollivander's.

They tried several wands, finally settling on one: 10 3/4 inches, made of vine wood, and had a center made from a dragon heartstring, which Ollivander said was very rare (a word that Hermione had heard many times concerning her).

Minerva was suitably impressed by the wand that chose Hermione. She had never heard about a wizard or witch owning a wand with a dragon heartstring in the center, and that was saying a lot.

Finally, they went to Madame Malkin's, a robe shop, where they bought everything needed. A pale-faced, pointy-chinned boy sneered at Hermione.

"Filthy Mudblood!"

Hermione paid no attention. She knew that the words did not change who she _really_ was, so she didn't really care what she was called.

Tom's voice was indignant. _That scum. He's Lucius Malfoy's boy. He doesn't know who you truly are; don't let him know._

Minerva's voice was quite indignant as well. "Draco Malfoy, if I ever hear that word directed at Ms. Granger again, I will wash your mouth out with soap."

Draco mumbled to himself. Filthy Muggle-born. She had no right being here, breathing the same air as Purebloods.

They finally left, having bought everything needed, and were quite tuckered out. "I will see you tomorrow, Ms. Granger," Minerva said, touching Hermione's shoulder as they stood in front of her house. "I will escort you to the train. Be ready, bright and early!"

Hermione waved at Minerva as she walked down the driveway.

Minerva watched Hermione go into the house. She almost laughed at the 'insult' Draco Malfoy had called Hermione. If only he knew. She shook her head.

Then she realized something: Vivienna wasn't the only child of Tom Riddle.

There was another, a boy.

Severus Snape.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, how am I doing? Please review! Pretty please with a cherry and whipped cream and sugar and hot fudge sauce on top? *puppy dog eyes***

 **I have to get back to school now (blech). Will Minerva tell Severus that he has a sister? Will he remember?**

 **Find out next time!**

 **~ 4ever**


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Thank you for reading, everyone! Please make the numbers go uppy! I'd really like to know what you like and what I could work on; please let me know in a review.**

 **~ 4ever**

* * *

 _There was another, a boy._

 _Severus Snape._

The next day dawned, cold but sunny. As promised, Minerva was waiting downstairs when Hermione finally dragged herself out of bed.

She dressed in Muggle clothes and de-frizzed her poor hair; she would change into her robes on the train. She quickly packed her trunk, filling it with sentimental things, a few clothes, and books. Lots and lots of books.

They arrived at the train station, and Minerva introduced her to a family of redheads. She chatted with the twins, who were a year or two older than her, when she heard her father's voice.

 _Enna! He's here!_ Tom's voice was urgent and excited, like a child on Christmas morning.

She turned her head and watched as a boy around her age approached them. He had black hair that hung in his eyes, presumably covering up his scar, and he was quite skinny, as if he hadn't eaten properly for days.

"Er, hello," Harry said nervously. "I was wondering—"

"How to get to Platform 9 and 3/4?" Molly Weasley, the mother of the redheads said kindly. "Of course, dear, just watch Percy."

The eldest, tallest, and gangliest of the boys, Percy, ran towards the brick wall with his trolley. He looked as if he was going to hit the wall face-first, but instead he went _through_ it.

There was a mixup with the twins, who went next, and finally only Ron, Hermione, and Harry were left.

Looking around at one another, they nodded and rushed into the wall. Only it wasn't a wall so much as a brick-wall-looking mist.

They tumbled out the other side and collapsed in a heap. Hermione was on top, so she got up first and offered her hands to the boys. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a first-year." She said proudly.

"Me too," the boys muttered, shoving their hands in their pockets.

Hermione rolled her eyes and left to find an empty compartment.

"Bloody know-it-all," Ron whispered to Harry. Harry made a noise of complete agreement.

"Nerdy bookworm," he said under his breath.

Hermione felt her eyes tear up, and not just from the cold. _What a warm welcome,_ she said disgustedly, swiping at her eyes furiously.

 _Hush, Enna, they are probably just jealous. Now remember, don't confront Severus yet. Give him a few months; it has always taken him a while to warm up to new people. The only exception,_ he told her, his voice soft and soothing, _was you._

Hermione snorted, and finally found a car with no one except a pale girl with white-blonde hair. "May I sit?" She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite the girl.

The girl nodded, almost absently. "Of course...but be warned, there may be Humperquinkles around."

Hermione sat down. She had some experience with people like this. "Ah, yes, Humperquinkles," she said, attempting to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Quite dangerous, especially to girls, am I right?"

The girl looked up at Hermione, surprised and pleased. "Indeed," she intoned. "I am Luna Lovegood, but nearly everyone calls me Loony. I don't know why."

The girls fell to talking, and they discovered they had several things in common, including Nargles, Nifflers, books, and a fear of being sorted into Hufflepuff, which they regarded as the least important House.

Suddenly the door slid open and there stood Ron and Harry. "Er, can we sit?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Luna said serenely, moving to sit beside Hermione.

"Hello, Ron, Harry," Hermione said, not unkindly, turning back to her book. Luna glanced at the title, smiled, and pulled out the exact same book, although perhaps less battered, as Hermione had read this particular copy dozens of times. Luna opened her book and turned it upside down.

 _Really, I wonder why people call her 'Loony',_ Hermione said sarcastically. Not moving her head at all, she glanced at the boys, who were squirming uncomfortably.

Finally, after a few minutes of listening to the leather on the seats squeak as the boys shuffled on it, she sighed and put her book down. "What is it?" She demanded, glaring at them.

"Uh, I'm sorry we said rude things about you," Harry said.

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Oh, what about the other one? Doesn't he talk?" She didn't wait for an answer as she turned her glare singularly onto Ron. "Wait, of course he does! I heard him just a few minutes ago!" She tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Now, what was it he said? Oh yes: 'Bloody know-it-all'. It is actually very helpful to _read_ sometimes, Weasel-bee."

A laugh erupted from the throats of several people standing in the doorway of the compartment. "Nice one, _Mudblood,"_ Draco sneered.

Hermione turned her gaze upon Draco and raised an eyebrow daintily. "You want a turn, Ferret?"

Twin splotches of red appeared on Draco's high cheekbones, painfully prominent against his pale skin. Tom had told Hermione about the nickname, and she had used it well, he praised proudly.

"My name is Draco Malfoy." Draco droned. "I come from the purest of pure families, unlike _yours,_ Mudblood."

"Pleasure to meet you...Ferret," Hermione grinned. "And who says my blood is muddy?"

Draco's expression was condescending. "If I cut you right now, your blood will be brown. That is what everyone from any true Pureblood family knows."

"Have you actually ever cut a Muggle-born?" Luna asked in a dreamy voice. Draco's eyebrows went up.

"No, but I have watched as my father did. Believe me when I say their blood is muddy."

Hermione hissed, "Have you seen it up close though?" Draco sneered and shook his head.

Hermione contacted Tom: _Father, may I prove him wrong?_

 _You have my permission, daughter,_ Tom replied, his mental voice amused.

Hermione pulled a small, sharp, silver knife from her book bag. "This is what my blood looks like," she said, and pulled the blade across the smooth, pale skin of her inner forearm.

"No!" Ron exclaimed. Harry looked horrified.

Hermione watched impassively as scarlet blood droplets welled up across the shallow cut. "This is what my blood looks like," she repeated, and stood up, wiping the red liquid on Draco's starched white shirt.

Draco looked down, noticing the crimson blood bloom on his shirt, spreading quickly. She was right: her blood wasn't the slightest bit muddy. It wasn't any color except pure red.

He lifted his head and met the Mudblood's gaze, which was cold and harsh, quite a contrast to her warm chocolate-brown eyes.

He suddenly realized that she was pretty, in a bookish kind of way: her skin looked like she spent most of her time indoors, most likely reading, and her hair was quite curly and rather bushy, but it looked soft. Draco almost wanted to run his hands through it.

Whoa, what?

He dropped his eyes again. He couldn't crush on a Mudblood. It was against the ethics of Purebloods.

He would have to talk to his godfather about the situation.

* * *

 **A/N: How are you liking it? Please drop a review**

 **Let me know how OOC you want Severus to act; I want him to be cold and 'The Greasy Git of the Dungeons' at times, but I also want him to be a kind, loving brother.**

 **Love all of you to pieces!**

 **~ 4ever**


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my stories. I love you all! *tears up***

 **Without further ado, here is the next chapter of Darkness Within the Light .**

 **Oh, I don't think I've said this: The characters all (unfortunately) belong to J.K. I just like Imperiousing them to bend them to my will. *laughs wickedly***

 **I also don't own the Sorting Hat song.**

 **Please review! (People who do get cookies!)**

 **~ 4ever**

* * *

Hermione seemed to be the only calm first-year, as no one else had any idea what was going on, and the little brothers and sisters of former Hogwarts students were all nervous because their older siblings had told them ridiculous stories of how they got sorted.

Ron was telling Harry some story about how they had to fight something; Hermione tuned them out after a while. They could figure it out later.

Everyone cheered suddenly. The first-years turned to the front, where Professor McGonagall held the Sorting Hat. She stood beside a rickety old stool that looked centuries old, as if it had been used for years and never been replaced in the entire history of Hogwarts.

She set the hat on the stool and it opened a flap and sang:

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Yiur top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head,_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old_ _Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind,_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in good hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone clapped, the Slytherins barely. Hermione decided that she didn't want to be in Slytherin, no matter her 'Pure' bloodline.

Harry and Ron had been whispering about

Professor McGonagall held up a parchment covered in spidery scrawl. "When I read your name, please come forward and sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat in your head, and it will tell you where to go."

She read names, and the student named was sorted, according to whatever the Sorting Hat saw inside their minds.

Hermione's name was called, which she almost missed because she had gotten used to being called Enna by her father.

She ran forward and perched herself on the stool. Professor McGonagall sat the Sorting Hat on Hermione's head and stepped back. The Sorting Hat was surprised; Hermione could feel it.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The Hat asked. "Miss Riddle, Daughter of the Dark Lord, hmm?"

 _Please not Slytherin, please not Slytherin._ Hermione prayed, her hands gripping the sides of the stool.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" The Hat sounded amused. "You could do very well in Slytherin, you know. You have the loyalty and selflessness of a Hufflepuff, cunning and resourcefulness of Slytherin, daring and courage of Gryffindor, and the wit and wisdom of Ravenclaw."

 _Gryffindor!_ Hermione begged. _Please!_

She could feel her father's disapproval, so she slipped away from the Hat and told Tom: If _I'm in Gryffindor, I can make friends with Potter._

Tom grumpily agreed, although he told her that she would do better in anything _but_ Gryffindor.

"Well," said the Sorting Hat with a mental grin. "Better be...GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Severus was having a bad enough day without the further annoyance of newbies and a 'jolly' feast. He hated having to sit at the High Table and force a smile-grimace onto his face.

To make matters worse, Minerva had asked him earlier if he was ever going to stop being so rude and sulky all the time. He'd scowled, but told her he suspected something was missing from his life. He didn't know what it was, but he felt like a piece of him was missing, and he had felt like that for the past decade.

He dressed in his usual flowing black robes and swept from his rooms in the dungeons. He made his reluctant way to the Great Hall, and grimaced when he saw that the first years were already there.

He glided up to the table where the other professors sat and attempted to not look as if he was going to hex everyone, even though he felt like it.

He watched as the Sorting Hat began it's job, quickly and efficiently dividing the students into their new houses.

Severus noticed a girl with bushy brown hair standing with a Weasley and—he noted with a sneer—a younger version of James Potter, who must be Harry, the Brat-Who-Lived. Whoops, did he say _Brat?_ He meant Boy.

Dumb-Old-Dork—the nickname for Albus Dumbledore within the ranks of Death Eaters—stood and spoke a few words. "Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak!"

Severus started; he hadn't even realized that the Sorting was done. Potter, Weasley, and the girl, who he assumed was a Muggle-born, since he'd never seen her before, were at the Gryffindor table. Even better. Now he could take away house points from his least favorite house!

The feast began, and when Severus met Potter's eyes, he saw the black-haired boy clap a hand to his forehead, wincing.

Hermione looked up at the High Table, wondering what had made Harry's scar burn, as he'd said. She locked gazes with a sallow-skinned, hook-nosed, black-haired man, and gasped.

Instantly, the entire table's eyes were on her. "I'm fine," she said, though her voice was weak.

Everyone watched her for a few more seconds with concern, then turned back to the meal.

Hermione glanced over again, staring at her brother out of the corners of her eyes.

* * *

 _Father, I saw him,_ Hermione cried _. I saw Severus!_

 _I know, my daughter,_ he replied grimly _. But you cannot let that get in the way of your studies._

Hermione sighed _. I know, Father._

 _Good girl,_ Tom said approvingly _. Now, Enna, are you allowed away from the prefects yet?_

 _Yes,_ Hermione said _, We have the evening off to explore the castle since the train arrived earlier than expected._

 _Ah, good. Go to the library, Enna, you should start studying._

 _Studying?_ Hermione complained _. But I'm already ahead of everyone!_

 _Yes, but you need to have the image of a bookworm know-it-all,_ Tom reproved gently _. Go, Enna._

Hermione sighed, and went. She passed a giggling group of fourth-year girls and rolled her eyes.

She found the library, not hard, as her enhanced lioness senses steered her towards the large, musty room with pages rustling in the breeze from an open window.

The library was nearly empty, the first-years all out exploring their new home away from home, with the older students as guides.

She sat down with her favorite book, Hogwarts: A History, and flipped through it absently as she thought about her brother. A brother she hadn't even known about for most of her life.

What else had her mother kept from her?

As she thought this over, she noted a shadow on the page of her book and whipped her head around to find the very person of her thoughts standing silently beind her, like a black shadow.

Think of her brother and he shall appear.

"Just what do you think you are doing here at this hour?" He asked in a silky voice that implied danger if answered wrong.

Of course, she simply _had_ to take him up on it.

"I was under the impression that we could explore the castle until half hour before curfew," she said cheekily.

Severus eyed her. He'd seen her gasp at the sight of him; he wasn't good-looking, he knew that much, but she didn't have to be so rude.

People may not know it, but the unflappable Snape had feelings too, although they were buried deep.

"The library closes in a quarter hour," he told her, then glided away. After he was out of the library, he leaned against a wall and groaned. What had possessed him to let her stay? Why did he feel a connection to her?

He shook his head and went back to his room in the dungeons.

* * *

Hermione stayed the allotted time, then made her way up to the Gryffindor common rooms. Harry and Ron were already there, along with a few other people she'd seen on the train.

"Hello," she said.

They ignored her, and Ron continued to show Harry how Wizarding Chess worked.

Hermione sighed and walked over to the staircase leading up to the girls' dorm. She examined it and grinned. It had a charm making it impossible for any boys to climb it; if they tried, the stairs would turn into a slippery ramp.

She glanced over at the boys. They were studiously ignoring her, so she rolled her eyes and climbed the steps. The girls' dorm was large, with a big bathroom and several canopy beds, each with the girl's trunk at the foot.

She found her bed and opened her trunk, taking out her thin, cotton nightgown which her mother had bought for her. She hated how it looked: white with pink frills and lace around the cuffs and hems, but her mother had refused to take it back.

 _Are you a witch or not?_ Tom asked, exasperated.

Hermione laughed out loud and pointed her wand at her nightgown, Transforming it into a tank top and silky, red and gold sleep shorts. _Thank you, Father._ She said gratefully. Tom's disdain for the colors, but admiration for her work, showed in her mind.

A trio of giggling girls came up the stairs then. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed; her roommates were the girly, bubbly type.

"Hello!" A girl with dirty blonde hair came bounding over. She had bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks, with an already curvy figure, something Hermione would probably never have. "I'm Lavender Brown, and you must be our dorm mate, Hermione Something?"

Hermione forced a smile. "Granger. Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand, and Lavender snatched it, pumping it energetically.

Lavender wore a teal tunic and black leggings with a silver, studded belt at an angle on her waist. Over the shirt was a deep purple sweater, a color Hermione had never considered would go with teal, but on Lavender, it worked well.

The other girls seemed to be attached at the hip, whispering secrets in the other's ear. One appeared to be Indian, with beautiful brown skin, dark brown eyes, and waist-length brown or black hair. Hermione couldn't tell.

The other was a slender girl with light brown hair, pale skin, and rather nondescript blue eyes.

The Indian girl introduced herself and her companion. "Hi! I'm Parvati Patil and this is Fay Dunbar."

Hermione smiled politely and shook their hands as well. "Pleased to meet you," she said. Parvati seemed like a girly girl: underneath her robes she had on a frilly white dress that dipped quite low in the front, and white high heels. Her hair was done up in an elaborate french braided bun, with small curls around her temples.

Fay, on the other hand, looked like Hermione's type: she had on jeans and a Quidditch jersey under her Hogwarts robes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, with soft wisps coming undone at the neck and around her forehead. She seemed quiet and bookish, much like Hermione, so Hermione guessed they'd be better together than with either of the other girls.

"So," Parvati said brightly, "What do girls usually do when they're alone with three other girls?"

Hermione grinned. "I think we're supposed to do makeup, hair, nails, and something with clothes," she said. "But I don't know how to do any of that."

Parvati and Lavender mock gasped. "We must change that _at once_!"

Fay watched as the two girls rummaged through their trunks and brought out several bags of...well, whatever it was. She didn't know, and she didn't _want_ to know. Poor Hermione!

Hermione watched as Lavender unzipped one bag, dumping the contents on her bed. Lipsticks and nail polish of all shape, color, and sizes spilled out, along with several Muggle hair devices.

Hermione spotted Fay standing off to one side, and got up, walked over, and pulled the protesting girl back to the middle of the circle Lavender and Parvati had started. Fay struggled, but in vain; Hermione had one hella grip!

"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling Fay back as she tried to slink away. "If I have to do this, you have to, too!"

Fay pouted, but stayed still, eyeing the makeup warily.

The girls set about making one another pretty, curling hair, or straightening it, in Hermione's case, painting nails bright colors, and tossing articles of clothing to the others, who either put it on or passed it to the girl next to her.

The conversation suddenly changed to what they wanted to learn most.

"I want to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts," Fay said eagerly. "I can't wait until we can try out for Quidditch!"

"That's not until next year!" Lavender exclaimed. " _I_ want to learn Divination."

"Me too," Parvati said. The three girls turned to Hermione, who had kept fairly quiet the entire evening. She had, in fact, been mentally speaking with Tom. "What about you, Her-Herm-Herminny—"

Hermione smiled fondly as Parvati struggled with her name. She knew her name was not common; most people wouldn't even know who she was named after. "You can call me Enna or 'Mione," she said. "Most people can't pronounce my name either."

The girls sighed in relief. "I'll call you Enna," Fay decided, and Parvati and Lavender agreed.

Hermione grinned at them. "Let's make that my name amongst friends, shall we? Or should it be public?"

Lavender thought a bit. "Let's make it public—that way people don't have to be embarrassed if they pronounce your name wrong."

Hermione nodded in agreement, and, worn out from all the beautifying, the girls changed into their PJs and slipped under the covers, mumbling sleepy goodnights to whoever was still awake. Even sleepier responses came, and soon the four young witches were fast asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Drop a review, please! I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **If anyone wants to Beta for this story, I would greatly appreciate the help. I require someone who's first language is English, and who is good at spelling and grammar.**

 **Please check out my community: Best of the Wizarding World. Follow, and let me know if you think your story should be in it. I am currently looking for Staff, so if you think you are qualified to read lots of fanfiction and add it to the community, PM me and we can talk.**

 **I recently got braces, and my mouth hurts a lot, so I may not be here for a few days while I adjust.**

 **Thanks for being so understanding, and I'm sorry for the long Author's Note.**

 **~ 4ever**

 **P.S. Including the ANs, this chapter is 2666 words long. Not including this PostScript. I'll shut up now.**


	8. Chapter Seven

When Hermione awoke, it was very early, barely 5:00, and she didn't think any person in their right minds would be up at this time.

 _Did you just call yourself not in your right mind?_ Tom asked.

Hermione got out of bed and dressed in her robes. _I did,_ she answered snootily, her nose in the air. _Is that a problem?_

 _No,_ Tom replied, amused. _What are your plans for today, and what is your schedule like?_

Hermione checked her planner.

* * *

 **7:30—Breakfast  
** **8:15—Charms, Professor Flitwick  
** **9:00—Transfiguration,** **Professor McGonagall  
** **10:00—Double Potions, rotating Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw  
** **11:15—Lunch  
** **12:15—Herbology, Professor Sprout  
** **13:00—Flying Lessons, Madam Hooch  
** **14:00—Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrel  
** **15:00—History of Magic, Professor Binns (ghost)  
** **16:00—Free Time  
** **18:30—Dinner  
** **19:45—Free Time  
** **21:00—Astronomy, Professor Sinistra  
** **22:30—Curfew, strictly reinforced by patrolling Heads, Prefects, and Professors  
** **23:00—Lights Out**

* * *

 _Can you see that?_ She asked. Tom mentally nodded.

 _It seems that you are quite busy today,_ he commented. _Make_ _Slytherin and Gryffindor proud._

 _And what of your pride?_

 _You already have that, my daughter._

Hermione smiled, and tiptoed down the stairs.

The Gryffindor common room was empty, the fire dwindling. Good. No one was awake. She would be able to wander.

 _You remember the Disillusionment charm we worked on?_ Tom asked.

 _Yes, Father,_ Hermione replied. _I can do it so well that not even Dumbledore could see through it._

 _Good,_ Tom said approvingly. _Go, my daughter. Study, eat, sleep well, and be on your guard. If this works, we may be able to take over sooner than we thought. Remember, do not call Severus by his name, yet._

 _I will only call him Professor Snape,_ Hermione stated. _I know, Father. Remember, I am young and my memory works better than yours._

She could feel his laughter shaking her mind, and smiled. It felt good to make her father laugh; he did not do it often, but he had done it more since they had connected.

She slipped out the portrait to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady grumbled and shifted in her sleep. Hermione cast disillusioning spell, tapping her head and feeling the cold run down her spine. No matter how often she used the spell, she had never gotten used to the feeling of cold water trickling down her back.

She cast a whispered _Muffliato!_ and headed down the corridor. The morning was going to be used to explore the castle. She had always had a knack for direction, and finding hidden passageways, so as she walked up and down the halls, she spotted several hidden tunnels.

One was behind a statue of a one-eyed witch near the stairs to the DADA classroom, and as Hermione ran her hand over the statue, she could almost hear a boy whisper _Dissendium!_ She tapped her wand on the statue, and said the password. The passage sprung open, and Hermione peered inside. It was an old tunnel, perhaps half a century or more. It was narrow, too narrow for hordes of her father's supporters to storm the castle through, so she tapped it again and it slid closed.

She went back to wandering the halls, and she remembered that the third floor was off limits. She did not dare getting caught there on her first day, so she steered clear of the third floor corridor.

Hermione closed her eyes and listened. She could almost _hear_ the Magic of Hogwarts, humming in the stones of the walls and floor, and smell the scent of centuries of it. She thought for a minute, and took a risk, kneeling and placing her hand on the floor.

She kept her eyes closed and reached out with her Magic, tendrils open in a show of peace. Hogwarts nudged her magic, and she allowed herself to be prodded and poked, before shutting Tom out and speaking with the castle. The ancient building could not talk, but it understood pictures and emotions, so Hermione made a gesture of surrender and spoke.

 _I come in peace, with Magic in my blood and music in my heart._

The castle hummed, and welcomed her with open...um, Magic tendrils.

This was how Albus Dumbledore found her, kneeling on the floor as if she were praying, with her fingertips stroking the castle walls. Hermione's eyes were closed, but she heard someone quietly approaching, and, without opening her eyes, she said, "Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore was surprised, to say the least, by Hermione's good manners, and how the young girl had known it was him. He voiced this question aloud, and Hermione smiled, opening her eyes.

"I knew it was you from your scent of wood chips and lemon drops, your robes swishing on the floor, and most importantly, your Magic."

Dumbledore was taken aback by this, as he had expected the Muggle-born witch to be sadly out of place in the Wizarding world. Instead, the girl had manners as perfect as a trained-from-birth Pureblood, an excellent sense of magic and how to tell people apart without looking, and a nose made for Potions.

"Excellent deduction, Miss Granger," he complimented. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Hermione beamed, and stood up, her knees slightly sore from kneeling on the hard stone. She was probably the first person to gain points for their house. "I thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled proudly. He could tell that Miss Granger was going to fit right in, most likely much to the Purebloods' dismay. They despised being below anyone, especially if the ones better than them were halfbloods or Muggle-born.

"What were you doing kneeling on the floor?" He asked curiously. "I have never...felt anything so powerful. It was amazing. I followed the stream of Magic and found you somehow... _communing_ with the castle itself."

Hermione smiled mysteriously. "I was speaking with the castle, yes, but I was also getting the feel of it's Magic. It has a strong aura of Magic, and anyone who reaches out to it can feel it and commune with it. Would you care to try?"

Dumbledore wondered how this young Muggle-born witch could possibly know that the castle was alive. He had never attempted to speak with it, but he wondered how she had done it. From the extensive research he'd done, he knew that the castle either accepted or rejected one's Magic.

He sank to his knees beside Hermione and place his palm on the floor. He stretched out his Magic, and felt the castle sniff him and welcome him. He could almost hear words in his head, before he realized that it was the voice of Hermione.

 _The castle approves of your Magic,_ she whispered in his mind. _The castle accepts you as it's Headmaster and Master of the wards._

"How are you doing that?" Dumbledore asked, his voice full of childish wonder.

 _Hush, Professor. You needn't speak the words aloud. Instead,_ think _them. Think hard, offering the words to my mind. Pretend you can see the words written on a piece of parchment, and you are levitating it to me._

 _Like this?_ Dumbledore questioned. _Oh! Did you hear that?_

 _I did, Headmaster. Congratulations on your achievement. It often takes several minutes for some to learn, as I have read._

 _What book did you learn how to do this from?_ Dumbledore was amazed, as he had only discovered the talent in a book from several decades ago, over half a century.

 _I learned it from The Extended Versione of the Historie of Hogwarts._

 _Where did you find that?_ It was the same book that he had read.

 _At my local library._ Hermione's voice was puzzled. _Why?_

 _A_ Muggle _library?_

 _Yes. What of it?_

 _No reason._

Their mental conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professors McGonagall and Snape.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing, Miss Granger, Headmaster?" Snape drawled, arching an eyebrow. "Miss Granger, should you not be in bed still? Or is bed too good for you?"

McGonagall swatted him on the arm. "Be nice, Severus! She's with the Headmaster, doing...well, whatever it is they're doing."

Dumbledore attempted to rise, but his knees had locked into place. Hermione stood swiftly and lent the old wizard an arm, but to no avail. He was, literally, stuck fast.

"Shall I get Madam Pomfrey?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

"That is not necessary, Professor," Hermione said. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Dumbledore's knees. _"Tensio release!"_ **(A/N: I apologize for my butchered Latin. This means 'release tension.'")**

Dumbledore rose, expecting his old joints and aching bones to protest, but, to his surprise, they did not. He lifted his knees as high as they would go: nearly level with his hips. "My most sincere thanks, Miss Granger," he said with a polite incline of his head.

"Where did you learn that spell?" Snape inquired suspiciously.

Hermione smiled. "A book," she replied smoothly.

" _Which_ book? A first-year such as yourself should not even know that spell. Merlin, _fourth_ _-_ years should not know that spell!"

"It is fine, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. Snape turned his glare to the Headmaster, but Dumbledore ignored it. "Miss Granger has cured me of my aching joints, and I shall not having you pestering her."

Snape watched the young bushy-haired girl curiously. He didn't understand how a Muggle-born first-year could know a spell that was difficult for even Dumbledore, and could perform it correctly, to add insult to injury.

There was just something about her. Something that made her seem different from everyone else...

Why did she seem so familiar?

He would have to tell the Dark Lord.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, Merlin, this took me so long! What was it, nearly a month? Christ, I'm so so so sorry!**

 **Thank you for sticking with this story, even though I've neglected it for so long.**

 **If you're fond of time travel fics, check out my story The Phoenix or the Flame. It's fairly good, if I do say so myself, and if my amount of followers has anything to say about it. Seriously, I have over 70!**

 **Again, thank you so much for staying with me.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW! ;)**


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! On to the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Some parts of this chapter are taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Do not report for copyright infringement. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

* * *

Hermione bid goodbye to her Professors and headed to the Great Hall. It was just barely filling up with students, and, as she had assumed, neither Harry nor Ron were there. It figured that they were late-risers.

She ate quickly, and checked her schedule again. Charms first.

 _It's taught by Filius Flitwick, the tiniest Professor I've ever seen. He is old, and very talented. I believe he has some Goblin blood running through his veins._

 _I must go, Father. I will speak to you later. Please do not attempt to reach me during class. You know how I get when I'm studying hard._

Tom laughed. _I understand, my daughter. Reach out to me if you require any help._

 _I will,_ Hermione promised.

"Hey, Enna!" Lavender exclaimed, sliding onto the bench beside Hermione—or Enna, as she was to be publicly known.

"Good morning, Lavender," Enna greeted politely. "Are you excited for class? What do you have first?"

"Oh, I'm _thrilled_! I have Charms first." She peeked over Enna's shoulder to read her schedule. "Oh, you have it, too!"

"I'll see you there, then," Enna said. "I have to go. See you later, Lavender."

The blonde girl waved, then directed her attention to her plate.

* * *

Enna dawdled at the library until it was time for Charms class. She spotted Harry and Ron walking down the corridor, and brushed past them.

Charms class was very interesting. Professor Flitwick had to stand on top of several thick books perched on a chair just to be able to see over his desk. "Hello, class," he greeted in a high, squeaky voice. "We will be learning the Wand-Lighting charm today. Everyone take out your wand. Repeat after me: _'Lumos.'_ "

 _"Lumos,"_ the class repeated.

"Now hold your wand vertically and say the charm—clearly."

Everyone held their wands vertically and pronounced the charm, with varying levels of success. Enna got it on the third try. It took Harry a few attempts, but he managed it finally, even though his light was rather weak. Ron got it on his tenth try, but the light flickered on and off, until it finally stopped at off.

The entire lesson was spent on that charm, much to Enna's disappointment.

* * *

The next class was Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall looked even more severe when teaching, if possible. She had a way of capturing the class's interest and making sure that no one spoke.

She turned her desk into a pig as demonstration, then set the class attempting to turn matches into needles.

Enna flicked her wand and turned her match shiny, but didn't need quite make it into a needle. Neither Harry nor Ron could do it, though Ron did a bit better than his friend, managing to turn the red end of his match pointy (ish).

Finally, McGonagall let them go, but not without assigning a foot-long essay on the history of Transfiguration.

* * *

And finally, the class that Enna had been waiting for: Potions.

Professor Snape looked every inch the Slytherin intimidator. He stalked up and down the aisles, his black robes billowing behind him in a dramatic fashion.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked bemused, while Enna's hand shot straight into the air. _I bitterly regret Lily's death,_ she thought. _Or Drought of Living Death._

 _"_ I don't know, sir," Harry said.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Enna's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Enna wiggled in her seat, hand stretched towards the ceiling. _The stomach of a goat! It can save one from p_ _oison._

"I don't know, sir," Harry said quietly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, hmm, Potter?" The Slytherins were all hooting with laughter, both at Harry's ignorance and Enna's furiously waving hand.

"What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Snape continued interrogating Harry.

 _It's the same thing, also known as Aconite,_ Enna thought, finally standing up, her hand still stretched as high towards the dungeon ceiling as it would go.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her." The Gryffindor side of the room laughed, but quickly quieted when Snape glared their way.

"Sit down," he snapped at Enna. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things did not get any better as class went on. Neville managed to melt Seamus's cauldron, and covered himself in angry red boils. Another point was taken 'for sheer lack of intelligence', and Snape dismissed the class while he escorted the poor boy to the hospital wing.

* * *

 **A/N: This is true.** **According to Victorian Flower Language, asphodel is a type of lily meaning 'My regrets follow you to the grave' and wormwood means 'absence' and also typically symbolized bitter sorrow. If you combine that, it meant 'I bitterly regret Lily's death'.**


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N: I am so, so sorry for the long wait, but I'm losing track of this story line. I may have to put it on hiatus until for a while. TPF is my main priority right now. Oh, if you haven't already checked that fic out, you really should!**

* * *

Classes were going great, and Enna could barely believe that nearly two months had passed. It was now Hallowe'en, and she sneered quite Slytherinly at the superfluous orange and black decorations in the Great Hall. Dumbledore had outdone himself — literally.

Enna liked Potions the best, although that might have been because she enjoyed watching her brother out of the corners of her eyes while she dumped the ingredients for potions she had known about for years into her cauldron, which she shared with Potter. Ugh, she had to stop calling him by his last name; he'd get suspicious, though they were, not exactly friends, but acquaintances. They were in the same House, after all.

 _Father, when can I speak Severus' name and help him regain his memories of me?_ Enna asked as she walked to Charms class.

 _When **may** you, _Tom corrected. _I do not know, but not for at least a year or two. Perhaps just before my rebirth. We cannot have Severus knowing too soon; it may mess things up. As Dumbledore is a powerful Legilimens, he could see in Severus' mind, though it is not likely._

Enna slipped into the classroom and took her seat at the front of class. She continued speaking with Tom while she dug through her full-to-overflowing book bag. _Father, when will I take the Dark Mark?_

She could feel her father's surprise at her question. _You truly wish to, my daughter?_

 _Yes. I wish to become the Dark Lady, daughter of the most powerful wizard semi-alive._ Her father sent a feeling of deep laughter that filled Enna with warmth.

 _I have no qualms against it, Enna. In fact, nothing could please me more than having you rule at my side._ Enna smiled at Tom mentally.

 _Thank you, Father. Now, I have a class to attend. I will speak to you later._ Her father smiled indulgently, then broke the connection.

* * *

Enna stormed down the corridor, her head down and tears welling up in her eyes. How _dare_ that freckled redhead git speak against her? _Father,_ she said, not asking, just demanding that he answer.

Tom opened his mind and was immediately overwhelmed by the intense hatred, anger, humiliation, and sadness that was pouring from his daughter. _Enna, what has happened, my daughter?_

Enna took a sharp right turn and headed down to the dungeons. She wanted to be near her brother—as near as she could be without him knowing. _Oh, just that_ _carrothead, Weasley. He told Potter that it was no wonder I had no friends. That's not true, is it, Father? I have friends, right? Even if they were mostly friends with Vivienna Riddle?_

 _Well,_ her father mused, _you had **some** friends, although they were mostly your friends because of who I am. Draco Malfoy, for instance. You actually are, um, sort of...engaged. _

**_WHAT?!_** Enna could feel Tom's annoyance at her loud tone, but she didn't care. _How can I be engaged to that...that git?!_

 _It was what was best for both you and the young Malfoy heir,_ replied Tom.

Enna shook her head at her father. _I can't believe you, Tom._ Her father winced. Enna only called him by his first name when she was either very serious, or very pissed off. Right now, she was both. _How can you engage a **baby** to another baby? That's Victorian!_

 _No, Enna. It was required._

 _Don't call me that. You have no right to call me Enna anymore. You can call me Hermione. That's my name, is it not?_

She could feel Tom's sadness. _I am sorry, Hermione. I did what I thought was best. It was for..._

 _The Greater Good,_ Enna said bitterly. She ducked into the nearest room, which was a girls' bathroom. _You sound like Dumbledore._

Tom just sent her a feeling of great regret, longing, and sadness. _I would apologize, but it was necessary. I **am** sorry that you had to find out __like this, however._

Enna didn't answer; she shut her mind, effectively blocking Tom out. She knew that he could break through her walls if need be, but she also knew that, after her outburst, he wouldn't dare. He was sometimes dumb, but he wasn't completely stupid. He wouldn't do anything that could jeopardize their relationship any further, such as a breach of her walls and privacy.

She opened the door to the girls' bathroom, slipped inside, and shut it after her. She walked over to the mirror and stared at herself. Vivienna Riddle, as Pureblood as they come. Hermione Granger, Muggle-born know-it-all bookworm.

How were they the same people?

* * *

She stayed in the bathroom for hours, curled up beside the sink, arms around her legs, clasping them ever tighter to her chest. Her face was between her knees, and her bushy brown hair covered any other openings.

How could her father do this to her? Draco Malfoy?! Out of everyone, it just _had_ to be him...

Well, he could go stuff himself! She wouldn't marry Malfoy.

She wouldn't!

And Ronald Weasley... Oh, she was _so_ going to get him back. She may not have friends yet as Hermione Granger, but she was going to make some!

* * *

And, of course, what better way to make two new friends than have them come to your rescue while you're being attacked by a mountain troll?

Enna strolled down the corridor with Harry and Ron. To her surprise, the redhead had executed a perfect Wingardium Leviosa with the troll's club, knocking it out. She couldn't have done better herself.

Well, okay...that probably wasn't quite true. She might have been able to show him up, but she didn't want to.

She had friends now, and one of them just so happened to be the person that she was supposed to get close to.

Life was good.

* * *

 **A/N: Please leave a review! I and my muse will feel so much better after being reassured that people still give a damn about this story. And the next chapter (if I decide to keep this story off hiatus) will be so much faster ;).**

 **No, no, this is not blackmail...**


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